


Call me by my name

by samii_senpai



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, College, Crying, Fights, Iwa-chan, M/M, Making Up, Oikawa - Freeform, Supermarkets, housewives, poor iwa-chan, poor oikawa, post-college
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-11
Updated: 2017-11-11
Packaged: 2019-01-31 20:28:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12689667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samii_senpai/pseuds/samii_senpai
Summary: It’s not as if they lived that far apart.They were both going to school in Tokyo after all, and their respective Universities were only just over an hour and a half apart by train. The distance wasn’t the issue. It was their schedules.----Oikawa and Iwaizumi have a falling out and then a making up.Guest appearance by Tobio!





	Call me by my name

**Author's Note:**

> Oikawa and Iwaizumi feelings...need I say more?
> 
> Thank you for reading and enjoy.

It’s not as if they lived that far apart.

They were both going to school in Tokyo after all, and their respective Universities were only just over an hour and a half apart by train. The distance wasn’t the issue. It was their schedules.

In the first few months of Uni, it looked as though everything would work out for them. That was when things were shiny and new; the honeymoon phase, if you will. The only real distinction between this time and their high school years was that now they happened to be on separate campuses. But, they were prepared. They had planned for this. They had determination and hope in their bond with each other. At the end of their 3rd high school year, when they realized they would be in different Universities, they hadn’t been worried at all. They had been friends their _whole lives_ , so what could possibly get in the way of that?

Looking back, they had both been really cavalier about the whole thing, or maybe it was just naïveté. The reality was different than they had imagined. Much more difficult. As their classes began to take off, their schedules became less and less cohesive. Eventually, they were planning something as simple as a night at the bar weeks in advance, and even those plans weren’t sticking. It became in a word: exhausting. And, in a more honest one: a nuisance. They were both frustrated, and, right or wrong, they took it out on each other, placing blame on one another for cancelled plans. As they continued to conflict, they grew tired of fighting and it came to a point where both of them felt it was for the best if they stopped trying.

This was the beginning of the end: outside of the volleyball matches, they stopped seeing each other.

It became a thousand times more difficult from there.

Without the frequent face-to-face contact, lots of small, seemingly insignificant things started to wear on the relationship. They would forget to tell each other things; their fights seemed bigger and none of them was ever solved; and, eventually, they stopped fighting all together which was arguably worse.

But even then, regardless of everything, they still fought for their friendship. They tried to remember to text, and every once in a great while they would make the time to have a proper phone call, never mind that the conversations felt increasingly stilted and forced. They fought, but, eventually, they couldn’t ignore the fact they simply didn’t have much in common anymore.

In fact, they soon discovered the only thing they still shared between them was volleyball and it became all they talked about. When they ran out of things to say about volleyball, they would hang up, and it would be another few weeks before they would speak again.

It went on like this for about a year or so; the uncomfortable limbo of a dying friendship.

And then, in the beginning of their third year, _it_ happened.

Shitty-kawa, that fucking bastard, quit playing volleyball.

He didn’t even tell Iwaizumi when it happened. The only reason he found out was that when he arrived at the match set against Oikawa’s University, Oikawa wasn’t there. Iwaizumi had called him immediately afterwards, and it was _so_ stupid because at the time it didn’t even occur to him that Oikawa wasn’t there because he had quit. That’s exactly what Oikawa told him though. He told him it was because he no longer had time for the sport, that he needed to think about his career, his future, and volleyball was getting in the way.

“I made the decision weeks ago,” he had said it very matter-of-factly, “sorry. I guess I forgot to tell you, Iwa-chan.”

When Iwaizumi looked back on this moment now, he knew Oikawa had every right to do what he did, to put his future first and stop playing a sport he no longer cared for, but at the time, when he heard that stupid fucking nickname come through the line, he wanted nothing more than to reach his hand through the phone and punch that bastard in the face. When Oikawa said no longer had the time for _volleyball_ , Iwaizumi heard Oikawa no longer had time for _him_. And that bastard hadn’t even thought it was worth it to tell him.

It was then, that every hard feeling, every “disagreement” that they had swept under the proverbial rug, every last biting remark that had been uttered in the last couple years between them, gushed out of Iwaizumi in a flood.

In all the years they had known each other, they had never before fought like that.

It was the climax. The crescendo. It was all the years they had spent together, laughing together, caring for each other, crashing around them like it was the fucking apocalypse. And after it was all said and done, the last words he said—no, _spat_ – to Oikawa, recorded for posterity, were: “Fuck you.”

And so, a friendship that had been 22 years in the making, crumbled to dust at their feet.

 

**5 YEARS AFTER**

               Iwaizumi hadn’t thought of Oikawa in years.

After what had happened between them, he had done his damnedest to never give him a second thought. He dealt with it like a bad break-up. He could remember going around his apartment while his hurt was fresh, collecting everything that could remind him of his ex-best friend and putting it all into an empty cardboard box to be shoved in the back of his closet. Any friends he had who knew about him knew better than to bring him up, and he had told his parents to drop it after about the sixth or seventh call ending in, ‘ _How’s Oikawa? Have you boys made up yet?’_.

It had worked. He had all but forgotten him.

               Now, half a decade later, here he was. Standing in front of him in the milk section of a supermarket.

               Oikawa looked as shocked as he felt. His brown eyes wide and his eyebrows halfway up his forehead. He was doing that thing with his lip that he always had when he got nervous, worrying it between his teeth until Iwaizumi was afraid it would bleed.

               He hadn’t changed much in appearances. His hair was still in the same wild style it always had been, and he had not improved in his fashion sense. He had on plaid pants that looked like they were meant to be pyjama bottoms and was wearing some god-awful T-shirt with a picture of a UFO lifting away a helpless cow. _GET IN LOSER_ was written in a blocky font across the top. The only real difference he could see was that his ex-best friend looked a little older, but Iwaizumi felt the age suited him as everything seemed to suit Oikawa.

               He was holding a shopping basket in one hand and the other, which had been reaching toward a carton of strawberry milk when he caught sight of Iwaizumi, was now drawn up in front of him. His fist clenched lightly like he was trying to protect himself from something.

               Neither man said anything for a while, but the moment was probably not as long as it felt. The atmosphere between them was thick and awkward. Tension must have bled into the air around them as other shoppers were finding it more comfortable to keep at least a 2-meter distance. Iwaizumi sucked in a breath and made to speak. Oikawa beat him to the punch.

“Iwa-chan.” He said and nodded at him curtly.

               It caught him off guard like a punch to the gut. Iwaizumi felt like the breath had been sucked out of his lungs.

               Oikawa was wasting no time worrying about why Iwaizumi looked like he had just swallowed a live fish. He was already attempting to move around him. His actions were awkward and a little stiff as he tried to escape as quickly as possible.

Iwaizumi knew that if he left now, it would be for good. A chance meeting like this would not happen twice. Oikawa would make sure of that.

               He felt a flare of panic go off inside him and his hand shot out on its own. Long, tan fingers curled around Oikawa’s fair wrist, trapping the hand clasped tight around the handle of a shopping basket. For a second, it swung like a pendulum in the air between them, the previous movement halted.

               Neither of them moved. Only stood and watched the place where they were touching skin-to-skin.

Then, a jolt went through Oikawa as if he was bringing himself back to the present. His face twisted in outrage and he moved to break the grip on his wrist. He was opening his mouth to voice a protest when his eyes caught Iwaizumi’s.

He cut himself off and stopped struggling.

               “Iwa-chan…?” He murmured carefully. He seemed hesitant.

               Iwaizumi only had to wonder why he was looking at him so strangely for a second more as his vision began to blur.

He was crying. Fat, wet tears clung to his lashes and ran down his cheeks.

He dropped Oikawa’s wrist instantly in favour of covering his face. He wiped at it furiously. This was not a reaction he had been expecting from himself. He was a grown ass man crying in public. There are five-year-olds with more self-restraint. He hasn’t seen or thought about Oikawa for years. Seeing him now shouldn’t change anything.

Around them, a few other shoppers stopped to see what was going on. As if the tears weren’t bad enough, he could feel the warmth rising in his face.

               Oikawa wasn’t saying anything. It seemed Iwaizumi’s reaction had surprised him as well. He was watching Iwaizumi like he wasn’t sure he wasn’t dreaming. His hand, which had been held close to his chest, was now extended towards him in an aborted gesture.

_Fuck his pity._

               It was Iwaizumi who tried to run this time. But Oikawa was quick. He grabbed at his shoulders and twisted him back around.

               “Iwa-chan—”

               “Stop _saying_ that!” He snapped.

Why did he have to keep repeating that _fucking_ _name_?

               Oikawa dropped his shoulders and blinked.  

“I—I'm sorry.” He turned his eyes to the ground as hands gripped the basket’s handle too tightly. His knuckles were white.

He looked like a kicked puppy.

               Iwaizumi felt guilty. All his reactions were wrong. It was Oikawa’s fault. Seeing him again was messing with his mind. He couldn’t decide whether he wanted to hug him or hit him.

               Oikawa was biting his lip again. He was going to make it bleed, stupid—

               “Shitty-kawa.” Iwaizumi mumbled it like an apology. It was an awkward and terrible attempt to console him.

               But, Oikawa’s eyes snapped back up at the use of the old pet name and Iwaizumi watched in horror as his face scrunched up to cry.

“ _Hajime_.” He sobbed.

               “O-oi! Stop that!” Iwaizumi said a little panicky as the tears started to fall. A few housewives were watching them from nearby. He lifted his hands to cup Oikawa’s face and brushed the tears away with his thumbs as Oikawa continued to bawl. “Settle down! Were in public for Christ sake! How old are you?”

               _Twenty-seven._ His brain supplied unhelpfully. _And it was getting close to his birthday._

               “Hajime.” Oikawa wailed again. His basket dropped to the floor as hands came to fist themselves in Iwaizumi’s shirt, crumpling it up. His head dropped onto his shoulder and Iwaizumi wrapped his arms around him. The housewives began chittering from the sidelines, but he paid them no mind.

               “Yeah, yeah. I’m right here.” He mumbled into Oikawa’s clavicle, “Come on, stop crying. It makes you look ugly.”

               Oikawa pushed away from Iwaizumi and pouted. His face was blotchy and tear-stained. His eyes were bloodshot and there was more snot was coming out his nose than should be possible for a human being. “Iwa-chan is so mean.”

               Iwaizumi got the feeling he wasn’t talking about the ‘ugly’ comment.

               “Yeah.” He agreed, and Oikawa smiled like he’d won something. It was reminiscent of days long passed. Iwaizumi took his sleeve and began mopping up the other man’s face. “This is so gross, Shitty-kawa. Your mess is all over me.”

               Oikawa went back to Iwaizumi’s shoulder. He could feel him still grinning lightly into the crook of his neck. “Don’t call me that, Iwa-chan.”

               “Fine,” Iwaizumi said leaning his head against Oikawa’s, “Tooru.”

\-----

**Extras:**

**A Week Later**

“Seriously, Shitty-kawa! Don’t you have your own house!”

“Tooru, Iwa-chan! It's _Tooru_.”

“Fine, _Tooru._ Get your ass off my couch! This is not a hotel!”

“Aww, but Iwa-chan would miss me if I was gone.”

“How come you get ‘ _Tooru’_ , but I’m still stuck with _‘Iwa-chan_ ’? …Baka-kawa.”

“Hey! Iwa-chan is so rude! It’s not my fault my nickname is so much cuter than yours.”

“Get out of my house, _Tooru._ ”

“Make me, _Hajime._ ”

“Oh, I will.”

“Yah! Iwa-chan! Iwa— _Hajime!_ ”

.

.

.

*Oikawa was thrown out the door*

 

**A Month Later**

“Iwa-chan~! Good morning.”

               “What the hell, Shitty-kawa. It’s 7 o’clock on a Sunday.”

               “Aww, you sound sleepy. How cute~.”

               “…Did you sleep on the couch again?”

               “Of course! Where else would I sleep?”

               “And was that your toothbrush in the bathroom?”

               “Not brushing my teeth would be _super_ gross, Iwa-chan.”

               “And now your making breakfast? With my food?”

               “It’s called _sharing_. I made some for you too.”

               “Hmph.”

               “Hmm?”

               “Nothing.”

               “Come on, Iwa-chan. Tell me~.”

               “No.”

               “Iwa-chan.”

               “Shitty-kawa.”

               “ _Hajime._ ”

               “…I’ll buy you a futon.”

               “Wow~! Hajime, how _forward_ ~.”

               “Shut up.”

               “Hajime’s buying me a real _futon_.”

               “Stop—”

               “I’m practically _moving_ _in_ ~.”

               “—talking.”

               “I feel _loved_.”

               “Get out of my apartment.”

               “Iwa-chan!”

               “No.”

               “ _Hajime_!”

               “Good-bye.”

               .

               .

               .

               *Oikawa got his futon the next day*

**A Year Later**

“Good morning, _Hajime_.”

               “God, Tooru, your breath smells.”

               “How rude. I’ll have you know my morning breath smells wonderful.”

               “My nose says otherwise.”

               “Your nose is a liar. Give me a kiss.”

               “Go brush your teeth.”

               “Ugh. Iwa-chan, you’re so un-romantic.”

               “Mhmm.”

               “Mmmmm...”

               “…”

               “Wow~.”

               “Now go brush your teeth.”

               “Yes, sir~.”

               “Hey, Shitty-kawa.”

               “Yes~?”

               “I love you.”

               “I love you too, Iwa-chan.”

               .

               .

               .

               *Oikawa and Iwaizumi lived happily ever after*

**BONUS:**

**7 Years Later**

“Papa! Daddy!”

               “Wow~! Iwa-chan, come look at this beautiful art our son made for us.”

               “Hmm? Is that supposed to be me?”

               “ _Hajime._ ”

               “I’m kidding, I’m kidding.”

               “Of course it’s you, Papa! I even got your spikey hair!”

               “He’s right. That does look just like your hair, Iwa-chan.”

               “Yes and I see he got your…erm, chest right too.”

               “ _Those are volleyballs_.”

               “Mhm.”

               “Are you making fun of it?”

               “No, honey, of course not. Daddy would _never_. Let’s put it on the fridge~!”

               “Wait! I didn’t write my name!”

               “Alright, put your name there.”

               “T-O-B-I-O. Look at how well I did it, Papa!”

               “Good job, Tobio. It looks wonderful.”

               “Of course it does. You’re _our_ son, after all.”

               “Baka-kawa.”

               “I bet you just _crush_ all those other kids at everyth—”

               “ _Tooru_.”

               “Right.”

               “…”

               “Good job, Tobio-chan.”

               “Thanks, Daddy.”

.

.

.

*Oikawa and Iwaizumi live happily ever after with their adopted baby Tobio-chan*

 


End file.
